


Could It Be More Obvious?

by Lhugy_for_short



Series: Lhugy's Giveaway Round 3 [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: College AU, Falling In Love, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Lunyx, light injury, side Ignoct
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 00:46:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15473790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lhugy_for_short/pseuds/Lhugy_for_short
Summary: Prompto is a freshman at Lucius State College, and an up-an-coming track star. But when he's injured in a marathon, he finds an unlikely friend in Gladio Amicitia - senior, captain of the rugby team, and easily the most popular guy on campus. Of course, their new relationship has everyone talking - even if, in Prompto's eyes, they've got everything wrong.





	Could It Be More Obvious?

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! This is suuuper behind schedule, but here's the gift fic promised to Lydiagrayson over on Tumblr, winner of my giveaway. The request was for Promptio just starting out the intimate side of their relationship, and somehow that blossomed into this college au :) There's room to grow here, and still a lot left to explore, so there may be a chapter 2 eventually. Let me know if there's anything you'd like to see next!

There are times when he honestly can’t stand it anymore. The looks, the _whispers_ , the gestures people make when they pass him, subtly as if they’re somehow being discreet. Prompto misses none of it, of course. Wherever he goes around campus, the rumors follow like a plague - _“There’s that Argentum kid. Heard he’s dating the rugby captain.” “Amicitia? How’d a punk freshman snag someone like him?” “Who knows. Looks just like all the other dirty Niffs to me.”_

It’s the same everywhere. Somehow, in the course of a single week, the rumors have spread throughout every dorm and corridor of Lucius State so that Prompto (formerly a nobody) is now the most notorious freshman on campus. And the worst part of it all?

He and Gladio _aren’t even dating._

The two girls at the table across from him are staring again. Prompto tries to focus on his open textbook - something for a Theology class he regrets signing up for - but his concentration is totally shot. In the otherwise silent library, the girls’ hushed giggles and whispered jokes may as well be loud as jackhammers against his skull.

One of them drops the word "slut" and _that's it!_ Prompto slams his textbook closed and pushes himself to his feet. He can feel the girls’ eyes on him as he throws everything into his bag and slings it over his shoulder, but he pointedly ignores them both. Instead hobbles to the end of the desk where his crutches are propped up against the edge, and attempts to make the most dramatic exit he can on three legs.

* * *

 

It isn't _really_ Gladio’s fault the situation has gotten this far out of control. After all, he had no way of knowing a simple act would set off such a devastating chain reaction among the student body. But, in that moment, frustrated and near tears, Prompto can’t help but wish Gladio had just minded his own business that night. Maybe then none of this would be happening, and they'd both be free to go about their lives having never met.

Everything had started at the Crystallis relay, an annual race held in Insomnia which attracted teams from colleges and universities as far away as Cleigne. Runners competed against each other in a loop that covered half the city, starting at the LSC campus and finishing just outside the Citadel downtown.

Prompto, as one of the newest members of the track team, hadn’t even expected to be picked to run until at least his second year. But after tryouts and a few one-on-one training sessions, Coach Dave Auburnbrie had surprised everyone by adding the young, inexperienced Niflheim native to the line-up. He’d even been given the final spot, which meant he would have the glory - and, as he saw it, the pressure - of crossing the finish line for their school’s team.

As expected, the upperclassmen hadn’t taken the slight well. But Auburnbrie, an LSC alum himself, personally saw to Prompto’s training leading up to the big event. He claimed he saw potential, and sure enough by the end of the first semester, Prompto was well on his way to breaking his first records.

So when the day of the Crystallis arrived, he believed he was ready. If not in himself, he could at least have confidence in Dave’s coaching, and that was enough to shut out the complaints from some of the more vocal members of his team.

Or, so he’d thought. As it turned out, at least a few of them had been willing to throw their school’s chances of winning the race as long as it meant keeping _him_ from crossing the finish line.

Prompto had been warming up at the last relay checkpoint. Energy buzzed from the crowd of cheering onlookers as the current racers drew near, and even from a distance Prompto could see a familiar face in the lead: Tredd Furia, a junior and the LSC track team’s star runner. Behind him and closing in fast were the racers from Hammerhead Institute of Technology and Lestallum Women’s College. It would be a tight finish.

Tredd was hurtling toward him, baton at the ready. Prompto got into position, held out his hand and waited for the pass. Concentrated on the goal, letting the rest fade to the peripheral as his coach had drilled into him. Focused on the sound of approaching footsteps behind him and the vision of the Citadel rising above the cityscape ahead. _One goal, one chance._ This is what he’d trained for.

As his teammate closed in, he risked a glance over his shoulder. Tredd was sweating, straining, but there was a darkness in his expression that Prompto didn’t have the time to analyze. All he knew was that the baton was too high, and Tredd was going too fast, and _something wasn’t right in his eyes._ Then the larger runner was on him, and suddenly the weight of the baton was digging hard into his ribs with all the force of his momentum.

“ _Go home, Niff scum.”_

The baton twisted and his vision went white.

Tredd ran past and left Prompto standing, winded and in shock, at the relay line. All around him, the sounds of the crowd blurred with the sudden pounding of blood in his ears. The pain had him locking up, struggling to suck in a breath, and yet the pressure of the moment was still on him. The race, the goal. Somehow, he had to….

One foot moved in front of him. Then the other. Then he was running, sneakers slamming against pavement despite the way each step had his teeth rattling in his skull. Already, the few precious seconds he’d wasted had cost him - the Hammerhead racer had pulled ahead of him and was gunning for the finish line. Prompto shook his head, and his vision spun. He had to _focus!_

Fifty meters. One hundred. His chest hurt, his breath was coming in ragged pants, but still he pushed on. Two hundred meters, and up ahead the path flattened out. Three, four, five and he was halfway there, closing in on the other runner for the lead. _Focus! Focus!_

Prompto sucked in a pained gasp. For a moment, the world seemed to spin around him, and his balance faltered. When his foot came down again, it was all wrong - _everything was wrong -_ and suddenly he was falling. Pavement rose up to meet him, catching him on his palm and his knees at the very last second. More pain shot through him. Tears stung at his eyes.

_Focus!!_

Slowly, he pushed himself up again. Worked through the blinding pain and hobbled forward, his teeth clenching with determination. Another racer shot past, but he barely noticed. No matter what, he had to keep going. He couldn’t let his team - _his coach_ \- down. Not now. Faster, faster, until his legs were half-numb beneath him even as they carried him toward the goal.

They came in sixth place. Prompto didn’t remember crossing the finish line.

 

He woke up in a tent surrounded by mostly familiar faces: Coach Auburnbrie, who looked furious with his brows knit above steel blue eyes; half the track team (Tredd, he noticed immediately, was missing); even a professor, Dr. Yaegre of the Medical department, who seemed to have brought along her assistant.

“Prompto? Y’back with us, son?” Dave leaned forward the moment blue eyes were open to tuck back the hair that had fallen into freckled cheeks. “How’re ya feelin’?”

 _Feeling?_ That depended. “Did we win?” Prompto asked nervously, sitting up a little on the table in the middle of the tent. He couldn’t remember much other than Tredd’s words and the stab of pain in his side, but if he was here, that meant he had at least finished the race...right?

All around him, the team exchanged looks. Tired, disappointed looks that made Prompto’s heart sink right down to the floor. “We’ll get ‘er next year,” his coach confirmed with a smile that probably wasn’t intended to make him feel worse. “What matters now is gettin’ you back on yer feet. The doc here’s already taken a look at that ankle of yers.”

“My...ankle?” Prompto didn’t understand. Tredd had hit him in the ribs, hadn’t he? A rapid diagnostic check told him there was dull pain in nearly every part of his body - his chest, his palms, his knees - and as he scanned down the length of his body, he realized what Dave meant.

There was a splint on his right leg.

 _Why_ was there a splint on his right leg?!

“It’s a pretty bad sprain, kiddo,” Dr. Yaegre explained, gesturing her assistant into action. The man stepped forward holding a set of crutches, but it was suddenly his face to which Prompto’s attention was drawn. “You’ll have to use these for a couple of weeks, maybe longer. Don’t put pressure on it, and you’ll need to have the school clinic check it out every couple of days. I’ve already made an appointment for you on the firs….”

Her voice faded to the periphery. Either someone had given him some seriously potent painkillers, or the man approaching him was somehow interfering with his brain. Prompto found himself staring - probably rude, but in that moment he couldn’t help himself - at deep, amber eyes beneath a sweeping mane of dark hair. He was tall, too, and broad, his sweatshirt stretching around massive shoulders that seemed to fill was what left of the blond’s field of vision.

“Hey,” the man said, and his voice reverberated like a thousand drums in Prompto’s chest. “That was amazing what you did out there. Never seen anyone finish a lap with a sprain like yours. You must have guts of steel.” The crutches were set against the edge of the table, and instead he was reaching out to offer Prompto a hand. One, the blond noticed, that was big enough to swallow up his entire palm in the grip of it. “I’m Gladio, Dr. Yaegre’s TA. If it’s okay with you, I’ll be taking care of you this week.”

* * *

 

 _‘This week’_ quickly turned into a second, and even a third with Gladio continuing to follow him around campus like a lap dog.

Not that Prompto actually minds, of course, considering he’s had his hands full (literally) with the crutches, and it’s been nice to have someone to help with tricky things like doors and carrying textbooks. But he feels bad for stealing all of Gladio’s time - especially now that he knows who he _really_ is.

That hadn't taken long at all. Gladiolus Amicitia is practically a campus celebrity, recognized everywhere they go by friends and fans alike. Besides being a senior and TA to the head of the Nutrition Sciences department, he’s also a student instructor for a self-defense class, a member of the student council, and the captain of the LSC rugby team. Basically, he's everything Prompto _isn't_ , not to mention charming, strong, and unfairly gorgeous. No one should be allowed to be so perfect, Prompto thinks, least of all someone who bothers to be kind to a punk like him.

It's no wonder the rumors got started. Who wouldn't be jealous of some no-name freshman refugee from an enemy empire spending time with the most eligible guy on campus? But despite what everyone _thinks_ , they're wrong: he and Gladio aren't dating - _much less_ sleeping together - and as soon as his ankle heals they'll probably never see each other again.

Prompto sighs. At least then maybe everyone on campus will go back to leaving him alone.

Not surprisingly, Gladio is waiting for him on the front steps of the freshman dorm. As soon as he spots the blond hobbling up the path, he drops his book on the bench and rushes forward to greet him. "Hey, Prom! Lemme get that for you."

Prompto knows better by now than to put up a brave front, and smiles weakly as he lets Gladio shoulder his bag. "Thanks, it’s pretty heavy."

"No problem. Sorry I couldn't meet you at the library. I just got back from the gym, and your dorm was on the way, so…."

That familiar heat is creeping into his cheeks again. Tearing his eyes away from Gladio’s, Prompto shakes his head. "N-no way, you've already done so much to help. Anyway, um. If I can make it to the elevator, I'll be fine from there."

"You sure?" He can still feel that honey-gold gaze on him as Gladio leans closer. "I’ve got a test tomorrow, was hoping I could hang out here with you and study. Y’know, if you don't mind?"

 _Oh._ Without having to say it, Prompto guesses exactly where Gladio is going with this. It's happened before: his roommate, Nyx Ulric, kicking him out to spend some ‘private time’ with his girlfriend. But as much as he understands (Noct’s done the same to him plenty of times, after all) he also knows Gladio could just as easily go to the library or the computer lab if he wants to study. Letting him in to hang out, alone in his dorm room of all places, is only going to make those rumors worse.

Yet Prompto would be lying if he said he doesn't _want_ Gladio around. Maybe they can leave the door open so no one gets the wrong idea.…

"Um. Yeah, that's cool," he manages, knowing Gladio’s been waiting for an answer while his brain performed its mental gymnastics. "I've still got a little homework to finish, too. Come on up."

Gladio carries his bag the whole way. By the time they've stepped out of the elevator, Prompto’s already smiling and laughing and enjoying himself so much that he's practically forgotten about his nerves in the first place. Gladio helpfully fishes Prompto’s room key out of his pocket, and then like a true gentleman he's holding the door open while Prom hobbles his way inside.

"Where’s Noct?" he asks casually as he lets the door fall closed behind them. Prompto, already propping his crutches against the dresser and hopping on his good foot toward his bed, notices too late to stop him. _So much for that plan._

He clears his throat. "Oh. Uh, date night with Iggy. They're going to a musical or, I dunno, something." Gladio’s setting his bag down on the desk and strolling toward him, smile never faltering.

"Huh, sounds romantic." He smiles patiently while Prompto settles down on his mattress. Reaches out to grab an extra cushion to place under his bandaged ankle, which the blond accepts with a droop of his eyes. "Nyx is more of a ‘Mogflix and chill' kinda guy, from what Luna says."

A laugh, short and awkward because honestly Prompto’s never been on a _date_ -date and has no business with an opinion either way. “At least it’ll be quiet for a while so we can study.”

Gladio flashes him a grin, and asks what he needs out of his bag.

Despite his plan to study, Prompto ends up deep in a campaign on King’s Knight with his textbook abandoned on his lap. As far as he can tell, Gladio’s on his phone, too - a chat window, though Prompto tries not to pry - and so he doesn’t feel too bad about not actually doing anything productive. It’s pretty nice in a way. Calming, relaxing. Gladio leans back against the side of his bed and Prompto smiles, finding the sight of those dark curls, pulled back into a bun as they are, far more fascinating than his game.

Almost as if sensing the gaze on him, Gladio reaches back, tugs out the knot, and runs his fingers back through the resulting cascade of locks.

Prompto’s gulp is the loudest sound in the room.

Loud enough, apparently, to startle Gladio out of his concentration. “Hm? You okay, Prom? Need something?”

He shakes his head quickly when amber turn to him, hoping to the gods his expression isn’t as telling as he expects it must be. “N-no, no I’m good. I just, um, can’t really focus on homework right now.” Not exactly a lie. And luckily, Gladio seems to buy it.

“Yeah, me neither.” With a shy grin, he holds up the phone he’s been texting on for the past half hour, then nods his chin to Prom’s textbook. “What are you studying, anyway?”

“Hm? Oh, it’s—“

Gladio doesn’t wait. Lifting himself up to sit on the edge of the blond’s bed, he scoops up the book without a word - his fingers very nearly brushing Prompto’s thigh, and _oh, fuck_ . Prompto has to rapidly shift his good leg to hide the _other problem_ his wandering thoughts have caused.

“Cosmogony, huh? Never been much into religion.”

“M-me, either. It’s for the Humanities credit.” _Stop blushing, stop blushing!_

“Who’s your prof for this?”

“Um, Dr. Izunia? He’s okay, I guess, if you like creepy old dudes.”

Gladio snorts, dropping the book onto the desk and, Prompto notices, just out of reach. “Nah, not really my type,” he smiles. “Hope _you’re_ not into guys like him.”

_Guys like him._

_Guys…._

Prompto feels his face lighting up like a tree at Solstice, and drops his gaze down to the fingers toying with the hem of his sweatshirt. “ _Heh_. So, um. What about you? Where’s your textbook?”

If Gladio reads into Prompto’s nerves, he chooses not to comment. Instead smirks down at the screen of his phone again before pocketing it completely. “You caught me. I didn’t bring one.”

“What? But your test…?”

“Creative writing.” He shrugs at the look he’s being given. “It’s for a Lit credit.”

Above blue eyes, brows are knitting together. Something doesn’t feel right, and even though Prompto knows Gladio hasn’t exactly lied to him, it’s clear he isn’t saying everything, either. “So…. If you don’t want to study, what _do_ you wanna do?”

Gladio shrugs again, and Prompto has to suck in a breath because one large hand is _way too close to his thigh_ and it’s getting difficult to ignore the warmth of it. “Chill? Talk? Whatever _you_ want.”

“O-oh.” _Whatever he wants?_ That sounds...dangerous. It’s a mental path Prompto has spent the last few weeks _trying_ not to go down, because Gladio is too nice, too hot, too perfect, and way too far out of his league. “We could, uh, play XBox. It’s technically Noct’s, but he won’t be back for a while and….” Prompto swallows in the face of that unblinking amber gaze. “D-do you game?”

Gladio shifts his weight to the arm sinking into the mattress and half-leans into Prompto’s lap. “A little. I used to. My baby sister always kicked my ass, so I never had a chance to get good.”

“ _Eheh_. Not games, then.”

A smile - warm, disarming. “Can I ask a question?”

“Uh, sure.”

“What’s the deal with you and Noct, anyway?”

“...Me and Noct? What do you…?”

“Y’know.” Gladio shrugs again, and in doing so takes the opportunity to reposition his hand on the other side of Prompto’s lap. So close now he’s practically sitting on him, and the effect has the blond’s heart hammering like mad. “I mean, when I first met him I assumed he was your boyfriend, or something.”

Blue eyes fly open. “W-what?!”

“Well, yeah. _Now_ I know he’s with Iggy, of course, but….” He pauses. Drops his gaze to Prompto’s hands twisted around his sweatshirt, then back up to the beet red of his freckled cheeks. And he actually, honest-to-gods _winces_. “How far off am I?”

 _Far off?_ About Noctis, or…? “Um. Noct is just my friend. _Best_ friend, and I’d die for him and stuff, but, um. He’s. Not my type. I guess.” Embarrassment flushes him from his forehead down to his chest beneath his sweatshirt. Yet Gladio is still watching him, and his expression is still unreadable. Obviously, he’s waiting for the answer to his _real_ question. “You...you’re asking if I’m gay?”

Slowly, a nod.

“I, um. I d-don’t really know. I’ve never...actually...dated anyone before.”

Gladio seems genuinely surprised at that answer. “You’re kidding. Never?”

“Never.”

“No way,” he adds with a dry laugh. “How’s that possible? Someone as cute as you should be having to fight ‘em off.”

Prompto blinks. Works his jaw a few times because there’s no way he heard that correctly. “I…. You think I’m _cute!?_ ”

"Well, yeah. Course I do. Prom…?"

For a moment, there’s a heartbeat of hesitation. But only for a moment. Gladio closes the distance while Prompto is still trying to process things, and pauses with his mouth mere centimeters from the blond’s. Reaches up to brush his fingers across one freckle-spattered cheek until, making up his mind for the both of them, he cups Prom’s face and goes in for a kiss.

It’s gentle. Surprisingly gentle, actually, considering Gladio is, well, _Gladio_ and strong enough to probably kill a man with his bare hands. The same hands which are currently seeping warmth right into Prompto’s skin while his lips do the same, and it’s just so _unfairly perfect in every way he’s imagined and more._ Between the shock and the surrealness of it all, his brain is shutting down at record speed. Thoughts, fears - all those stupid rumors he’s been trying to ignore for weeks - fly out the window, leaving Prompto with nothing but his instincts, and the drive to keep Gladio’s lips right where they are.

“ _Mmm.”_ _More!_ What he can’t form with words he expresses with his fingers, suddenly twisting them in the front of Gladio’s sweatshirt. He tugs him closer, marvels at how easily he moves for him, and squeezes his eyes shut as the kiss heats up. Gladio’s lips slide open; Prompto follows suit. Shivers because _holy chocobos_ , that’s Gladio’s tongue sliding into his mouth, and suddenly he’s aware of the fact that he’s been holding his breath and -- !

He gasps for air the second they finally break apart. Gladio hovers in front of him, face seemingly caught between concern and trying not to laugh too hard as the blond flounders as gracefully as a fish out of water. “You okay?” he asks at last, pulling back just enough to focus on blown pupils within feverish blue. “Guess you’re probably gonna tell me that was your first kiss, too?”

Slowly, still sucking in air, Prompto nods. “....That obvious?”

“Yeah.” The smile he offers is sympathetic, and swoops in to lift Prompto’s chin again before he can drop his gaze. “Wanna give it another shot?”

He’s always been told that he’s nothing if not a quick learner. His parents had said it. Coach Auburnbrie had said it. And now, alone here in his dorm room, Gladio seems to be saying it, too. Not with words, of course, as his mouth is very much preoccupied with Prompto’s in that moment, but in other, subtler ways. Like his hands, for instance, which have changed from cupping Prom’s face to sliding more purposefully down the length of his body. Or his brows, which are knit tight in his concentration, most of his focus going into the way Prompto’s lips are sliding eagerly against his.

Even the way they're kissing is different now. There’s less hesitation and more urgency, more _hunger_ as Gladio’s tongue, his breath, his teeth come into play. When the larger man deepens the act, Prompto sinks further back into the pillows to accommodate. When calloused fingers find the hem of his thin shirt, Prompto whines and rolls his body up to encourage more. He recognizes somewhere in the back of his mind that he's probably going too fast; wanting too much when he's already so far out of his element, but it's impossible to stop himself. Already his pants are getting uncomfortably tight, but if Gladio’s noticed he hasn't bothered to comment - or to pay him any attention there.

That, more than anything, has him suddenly whining into the kiss.

Gladio draws his tongue back. Pulls off of Prompto’s mouth with a wet smack to hover over him instead, breath still coming in unsteady waves. His eyes, less amber now and more of a fiery gold, watch him, _captivated_ , as the intention spreads clear as day across his face. "Prom," he asks, as if his hand isn't already traveling up the inside of one thigh. "Can I…?"

“Yeah.”

It might be the easiest choice he’s ever made. Fast as it’s all moving, this feels _right_ ; feels safe because it’s Gladio, and Gladio means strength, trust, protection. Gladio means soft looks and a shoulder to lean on, quite literally when he carried his books for him, and _how the hell could Prompto have been so blind?!_ Realization hits him hard. Almost laughably so if not for the palm that suddenly rubs down against his crotch, drawing his surprise out in the form of a gasping moan instead.

“ _Nnh!_ Gladio _….”_

“I’m right here,” comes that reassuring voice next to his ear. “We only go as far as you want, okay?”

A nod. Prompto works his fingers up Gladio’s chest, amazed at the hardness of his muscles even through his sweatshirt, to the worn neckline. Distracts himself from the clicking of his own belt being tugged free by focusing on Gladio’s rugged jawline. He hasn't shaved today, it seems; the bristles of the hairs there graze his fingertips, catching his breath and making Gladio hum in appreciation as well.

"You like it?" he grins, watching the way Prom’s eyes light up in answer. "Maybe I'll have to grow it out for you."

Pink lips tremble. His belt is off now, and Gladio’s already working open the front of his jeans. "You’d, _a-ah_ , look crazy hot with a beard."

"Guess that settles it, then." When Gladio kisses him this time, it's slow and deep, mostly teeth because neither of them can seem to stop smiling. Prompto’s jeans are slid down (not an easy feat with his ankle still propped up and Gladio’s weight above him) until finally he’s down to his moogle-print boxers atop the sheets. For a second, he almost hopes Gladio doesn't bother to glance down to see them. Really, had he known his night would end up like this he would’ve picked something less…nerdy. Probably.

But the lips against his merely stretch into an even wider grin, and Gladio is chuckling something about _so damn cute_ as he trails his mouth down to the side of Prompto’s neck instead. Kisses him there, too, careful to avoid leaving any marks, and strokes his palm down over the hardness of the blond’s cock. Prompto makes this sound - somewhere halfway between a gasp and a moan - and flushes red enough to rival the LSC logo.

 _Shit, this is bad!_ he thinks, arms tightening around broad shoulders. Everything is too good, too _much_ , and in his excitement his heart is racing a million miles a minute. Gladio’s lips on his neck, warm breath against his skin, and that hand, _so large and hot,_ rubbing over his dick with the perfect amount of pressure - he’s liable to finish right then and there before he can even get his boxers off! Can Gladio sense it? Can he feel the wetness staining the front of pale cotton? Can he hear the hitch in his voice each time that palm grinds down? Does he have _any idea_ how unfairly hot this all is!?

“Relax, Prom.” Teeth scrape his jaw at the same time Gladio’s fingers decide to curl around his length through the fabric. “I wanna make you feel good. Just enjoy it.”

_Yeah, well._

_Fine._

He loosens his grip on Gladio’s sweatshirt by a hair. Drops his head back into the pillow and tries to calm his shaky breaths. Focuses on the waves of pleasure rolling through his entire body in time with Gladio’s hand on his cock, and lets his voice tumble out unchecked in their wake.

“ _Ah…ahh…. Gladio, it’s so….. M-mm…!”_

He twitches hard in Gladio’s fist, his gut clenching up another notch.

“I’ve got you, Prom.”

“Gladio….”

“I’m here.”

He hardly notices his boxers being slid down, but the sudden and direct contact to his already heated flesh is dizzying. Prompto bites down hard on his lip. Jerks up into Gladio’s fist as those fingers tighten, squeeze around him. It’s too much. It’s too _perfect_ and suddenly Prompto is tensing up as his orgasm hits him, leaves his mouth dropped open in a silent cry of pleasure. Steals away the last of his breath as he comes into at accommodating fist for what seems like ages.

And through it all, Gladio is there to hold him.

Gradually, the white stars in his vision begin to fade. The air cools, his muscles unclench. He sinks back into the pillows with a shuddering breath, and for a few perfect moments before realization sets in, he finds himself staring up into deep, warm, _familiar_ amber eyes and easily mirroring the smile there.

“Hey,” Gladio grins.

“Hey,” he sighs back.

“Hang on a sec, okay?” There’s a pat to his hip, then Gladio’s getting to his feet and snagging a box of tissues off the bookshelf (they’re Noct’s, but Prompto doesn’t bother to correct him). The mattress creaks as he settles on the edge of it again, and distracts Prompto with a waterfall of kisses while he works to clean them both.

Against those full lips, Prompto can’t help but smile. Can’t help but slide his fingers back through Gladio’s hair, humming his appreciation into each and every kiss. Even after his boxers are pulled back up and the tissues have been set aside again, neither of them seem quite ready to let go. Especially Gladio, whose hands have started wandering again the longer their mouths are locked.

Prompto, blushing with nerves but feeling bolder now, stills him with a hand on his cheek. “So, um. What about you?” As he asks, he lifts his blue eyes to meet Gladio’s gaze as determinedly as he can. There’s promise in his words - he hopes that much is obvious. Hopes Gladio can read the offer there because he really, _really_ wants a chance to return the favor.

Hesitation, a battle playing out across Gladio’s face as his two brains fight for dominance. He opens his mouth. Closes it again. Starts to go in for another kiss in answer when, to Prompto’s utter and everlasting mortification, the handle of the door clicks open and both Noctis _and_ his grad student boyfriend come striding into the room.

They make it about two full steps before, catching sight of the two figures on the bed, they both freeze in their tracks.

Prompto’s pretty sure his heart actually stops for a few seconds.

“Hey, dude....” Noct manages as his eyes move rapidly from his roommate to the larger man hovering over him, to the clothes discarded on the floor at their feet. “‘Sup, Gladio.”

“Hey, Noct.”

“U-u-um.” Feeling suddenly exposed, Prompto grabs for the closest thing in an attempt to hide himself - which happens to be Gladio. “Y-y-you guys are back early.”

“Yes, well. One of the singers tripped into a set piece and destroyed the entire stage. They were at least gracious enough to refund half of the ticket prices, but….” Ignis purses his lips in mid-sentence. “I’m sorry, are we interrupting something?”

“N-no!”

“Yes.”

Blue eyes flash wide at Gladio, who merely shrugs.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Noct cuts in, no longer able to hide the amusement spreading across his face. “I thought you guys were ‘ _just friends_ ’ or some bullshit. Right, Prom? Isn’t that what you told me?”

“ _Noooct_ , come on, dude!”

“No, no. I called this _weeks ago_. Let me have this moment.”

Groaning, Prompto buries his face in the side of Gladio’s neck and prays that somehow he’ll disappear.

“Regardless of who may or may not have seen this coming from several miles away,” Ignis adds with a thinly veiled smirk. “I suppose we ought to leave you two to it. Noct? Care to grab a coffee with me?”

“We just had coffee.”

“Your point?” He offers an elbow, which Noct takes with only mild reluctance. One last glance at Prompto (who is still blushing and squirming as much behind Gladio as physically possible) before he turns and follows his boyfriend out into the hall. The last thing Prompto hears is a key turning considerately in the lock, and then the two of them are alone again.

Several heartbeats of silence. Gladio helps Prompto lay back again. Takes in the sight of freckles popping against bright red cheeks, and can’t resist the laughter that suddenly bubbles up inside him. “So. I guess ‘ _just friends_ ’ isn’t an option anymore?”

More groaning as Prompto tries his hardest to melt through the bed.

Gladio, however, seems intent on taking complete advantage of the situation, and even prefaces his next words with the most intimate kiss he’s given yet.

“Fine by me,” he smiles, lips brushing Prompto’s. “I’ve been planning to ask you out for a while anyway. What’dya say? Wanna make this official?”

Slowly, blue eyes open again. Prompto focuses on Gladio’s weight above him, on the warmth radiating off of him and the taste still lingering on his lips. On the way Gladio’s looking at him - _has been looking at him since the first time they met_ \- like he doesn’t care that he’s a freshman, or from Niflheim, or even that he wears Moogle-print boxers because he’s a total nerd.

Like he _loves him._

It’s the second easiest choice Prompto’s had to make that day.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he smiles, and pulls his boyfriend back down into a kiss.  

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!!! Let me know if you'd like to see more of this AU!


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